Thanksgiving With The Petrellis
by Lara-Van
Summary: With Emma's mother out of town for Thanksgiving, Peter invites her to spend Thanksgiving dinner with the Petrellis. However, even the best laid plans go oft awry. Pemma oneshot inspired by spoilers for "Thanksgiving"


**A Note From Lara:** I've been meaning to post this forever, but my internet connection has been sketchy at best, so it took me up until now to get it posted. Anyway spoilers for tomorrow's episode, _Thanksgiving_, have been saying that the Petrellis are going to have a "surprise guest" at Thanksgiving dinner. I have three theories about this. The first is, obviously, Sylar putting in an appearance, and based on the promo, that seems most likely. The second is Crazy Aunt Alice turning up randomly. And the third? Well, it might go something like this...

* * *

"What's wrong?" Peter asked.

Emma shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Come on," he said, laying a hand on her wrist in concern. "You only look like that when something's bothering you. What's wrong?"

"Nothing important," she said. "I just... can't spend Thanksgiving with my mother tomorrow. She's got to go out of town."

Despite her dismissive tone, Peter could see that she was disappointed. Mustering his resolve, he suggested, "Well, you could come with my to my family's dinner. If you want."

She smiled at his offer, but said, "I wouldn't want to intrude..."

"Emma, last year I spent Thanksgiving in a lead-lined cell eating dry chicken with a sadistic sociopath with the ability to hurl lightning from her hands. And that's a better prospect than family dinner." He grinned self-deprecatingly. "If you came, at least I'd have someone on _my_ side for once."

"How can I argue with that?" she asked. "Alright, I'll come."

They agreed on a time for him to meet her at her apartment, then parted ways, as Hesam was growing impatient waiting for Peter.

--

Peter told the cabbie to wait when they pulled up outside Emma's building, then proceeded up the stairs to her apartment. He pressed the doorbell, which he recognized as a special model that would set off a flashing light on the other side of the door, and waited.

A few moments later, the door swung open and Emma walked out. Peter had to work hard to keep his expression even at the sight of her. She wore a sparkling dark blue silk blouse and a pair of black pants, and her usual practical work shoes had been abandoned for blue satin pumps. Her golden hair curled gently around her shoulders and she wore a pair of small silver hoops in her ears.

"You look amazing," Peter breathed.

"Thank you," she said, and her self-conscious smile widened. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

Peter shrugged. "I can't remember the last time I wore a suit," he muttered, plucking at the lapel of his jacket uncomfortably. For a moment, neither of them could come up with anything else to say, and Peter thought that this felt a little too much like the awkward first few minutes of a date for his peace of mind. Before the silence could grow too stifling, however, Emma ducked down and grabbed at a little gray-and-brown streak attempting to wriggle past her out the door.

"No!" she said sternly to the tabby cat as she caught him in her arms. "You don't go outside, Mister." She cuddled him up against her chest, but despite her words, she was smiling. "This is Abner," she said to Peter. "I rescued him from a shelter two years ago."

He reached out and rubbed the cat's head, and was greeted with a happy purr. "He likes you," Emma said with a grin.

"That would be a first," Peter replied, smiling despite himself as the cat rubbed his head adoringly against Emma's shoulder. "I was always more of a dog person, myself. Cats tend to react badly to me."

"Well, Abner knows he needs to be nice to my friends," Emma said, glaring at the cat in mock-condemnation. Then she glanced up at him again, and there was a strange moment when they were staring into each other's eyes, both of them smiling. Peter was uncomfortably aware of the fact that his heart was suddenly pounding.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, I guess we ought to get going, then," he said. "I've got a cab waiting."

Emma nodded, and deposited Abner back inside the apartment before closing the door behind her.

--

As they walked up the front steps of the Petrelli mansion, Peter put a hand on Emma's shoulder to stop her. "I, uh, thought I should warn you," he said, "My family is a little... well, we're not the happy family we pretend to be for Nate's political ads. In a lot of ways, I guess we are, but there's been a lot of bad blood since Nathan and I discovered our abilities last year. We've been trying to put that behind us, but..."

"But it's forgiving is easier than forgetting," Emma finished for him.

He laughed. "Exactly." And with that, Peter pushed open the door and led her inside the house.

As Emma stepped onto the black-and-white marble floor of the foyer, she stared around her in amazement, taking in the sweeping grand staircase and the massive crystal chandelier. "Wow," she said, awestruck.

Peter sighed. "It's a little much, isn't it?" he said. "My mother's taste is best described as opulent, and as for my dad..." He shrugged.

She had torn her eyes away from the grandeur of the foyer in order to read his lips, and when he finished speaking, she said, "I can't really picture you growing up here."

"Trust me, there are days I can't, either," he replied. "I've been the black sheep from day one. Nathan was Dad's favorite, and I never exactly fit the billionaire bill."

Emma smirked. "I can tell," she said.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Peter demanded in mock-umbridge, but the effect was spoiled by his own laughter.

At that moment, Angela Petrelli swept into the foyer, dressed, as she usually was, in a severely tailored charcoal-grey suit, with only the loose silk blouse she wore beneath the jacket to give it a hint of femininity. And even that was spoiled by it's blood-red tone. It was a color that reminded Peter, uncomfortably, of the revelation he and Nathan had come to the night before. _Might have come to_, he reminded himself. There was no real proof that Nathan was really Sylar's body; there was no guarantee that Matt was even sane.

But before these morbid thoughts could continue, Angela gave a tight-lipped smile. "Peter," she said. "It's good to see you. You haven't visited enough lately."

"I've been busy," he said. "Work, you know."

Angela nodded. "You work too much. At least when you were a nurse you kept reasonable hours." Peter sighed, but before he had a chance to reply, she turned to Emma. "And who is this?" she asked.

"This is Emma Coolidge," he answered. "She's a friend of mine from the hospital. Emma, my mother, Angela Petrelli. And Mom, I'd have thought you'd know she was coming today."

"Peter, you of all people should know that's not how it works. I don't see just everything, let alone unexpected dinner guests," Angela said sharply. "You'll excuse me a moment, I'll have to tell Marta to set another place at the table." She whisked herself away as quickly as she had arrived.

He turned to Emma with a pained expression on his face. "Sorry about that," he said. "She can be..."

She shook her head. "It's alright. But I'm a little confused. How would she know I would be here?"

"My mother dreams the future," he explained. "I guess I should have called, but I just figured she would know. She usually does." Emma's hazel-brown eyes widened in surprise, but otherwise she didn't react to the unsettling news that her hostess was precognitive. Peter noticed the change in her face and his worried expression faded slightly. A small smile turned up the corners of his mouth and said, "My family's not exactly what you'd call normal."

"I'm starting to see that," Emma said dryly.

--

Emma watched Peter closely as they sat down to eat in the lavish dining room. She'd noticed a difference in him from the moment they stepped across the threshold of his childhood home. There was a certain weariness in his face and he seemed to sag just a little bit, as if he had suddenly reassumed a weight he once thought long gone. Even his words took on a different, ever-so-slightly subservient tone.

It was clear to her that he loved his family dearly, his intimidating brother in particular, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't very good for him to be around them. The Peter she knew was a generally happy person, if a little somber sometimes. Maybe he took his job a bit too seriously and was too hard on himself when he failed to save someone, but for the most part he was an optimist. This was a new side of him, this world-weary man with a heavy heart bearing a host of troubles she wasn't even sure she wanted to know about.

At that moment, Peter tapped her on the shoulder, interrupting her thoughts. When she looked up, she realized that Angela Petrelli was watching her intently, apparently having spoken to her. Emma felt her face flush in embarrassment, though there really was nothing she could have done.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I lip-read, but..." She finished the sentiment with a shrug.

Angela nodded curtly. "Of course. I was just asking how you know our Peter."

"We'd seen each other around the hospital a time or two," Emma explained. "But we'd never spoken. Two weeks ago, he saved my life. I had walked out in front of a bus, and he pulled me out of the way."

The older woman gave a smile that was really more of a smirk. "That sounds like Peter," she said.

Emma was uncertain whether she should tell the other Petrellis about her ability. She hesitated, then glanced at Peter, who shrugged but gave her an encouraging smile. "He copied my ability. It was very new to me, and he explained about... people like us."

Nathan, seated next to his mother, looked suddenly very interested. "You have a power?" he asked. "What is it?"

She was at a loss to answer that one. "I'm not sure," she said. "There are... layers to it. I see sound as color, but that's not all it is. I don't understand it yet."

The elder Petrelli brother had a strange look on his face, a hungry sort of curiosity as he stared at her. It made Emma uncomfortable, and irrationally afraid. "That's... fascinating," he said slowly, raising his left hand unconsciously. Emma felt invisible bonds tighten around her, and panic set in. She jerked backwards as much as the unprovoked attack would allow.

At that moment, Peter leapt to his feet, shock and anger and something else she couldn't define all over his face. "Nate, no!" he shouted, so loudly Emma actually detected a wisp of blue light. It was the first time she had seen spoken words, and the surprise of it was enough to temporarily blot out the fear she was suddenly feeling towards the Senator.

Nathan Petrelli paused, hand still outstretched towards her. There was a moment when everything seemed frozen. Nathan half out of his chair, Peter fully on his feet and glaring daggers at his brother. And then everything relaxed. Nathan dropped his hand and Emma was released.

Peter dropped to his knees next to Emma's chair. "Are you alright?" he asked, taking her hand comfortingly. Until that moment, Emma hadn't realized she was shaking.

"No, I'm alright," she lied. Well, not entirely lied. She was perfectly fine, just a little frightened.

Nathan hurried out of the room, looking pale and disgusted with himself. Peter bit his lip, torn. "I should probably go talk to him," he said. "He's... going through something right now, and... I'll be back in just a second, okay?" Emma nodded, though she wanted nothing more than to grab him and beg him not to leave right now. But he had already released her hand and he was gone after his brother. And she was alone with the austere Angela Petrelli.

--

Peter was only gone a few minutes, but it felt far too long to Emma. The Petrelli matriarch was pale and her face had a pinched look that Emma usually equated with grief, and the few words they exchanged were taut and uncomfortable.

Finally, though, Peter did come back. He dropped back into the chair next to her and offered her a strained smile. "Nate's gone," he said. "He needs to be alone for awhile to deal with... some things." He turned to his mother. "We're going to talk about what you did to Nathan later," he promised, and Emma was surprised to see the anger and the threat in his face. She decided that her earlier assessment was correct- Peter really shouldn't be around his family. They had too much power to hurt him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked. She nodded. "Nathan didn't mean anything by it. Something happened to him recently, and he hasn't quite been himself--" He shot another furious glance at his mother "--since."

Emma laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright," she said. "I'm fine. Weird is the new normal. After Hiro, and seeing you bring people back from the dead, I can handle being assaulted by a Senator."

Peter sighed. "You shouldn't have to, though," he said.

And that was the last thing anyone said throughout the rest of the uncomfortable Thanksgiving dinner. Emma was quite sure that no one around the table was feeling particularly thankful that day.

--

They ended up staying until twilight had fallen over the city. The sun had sunk below the horizon and a few stars were showing through the usual haze of smog to twinkle brightly in the sky, which was still stained crimson and gold at the horizon and faded into violet and navy above her. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, and it reflected the clear light of the moon and filled the garden with a shimmering, unearthly light. Emma stood on a balcony on the second story of the Petrelli's Upper East Side mansion, staring alternately at the sky which reminded her of her colors, and at the city itself.

Peter appeared next to her very suddenly, leaning on the balcony railing next to her. He had been speaking to his mother, having what she guessed to have been a heated discussion, because he looked angry.

"It's a beautiful night," she said. "Are you alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Emma turned to face him fully. "After... what happened with your brother, you looked like you nearly wanted to kill your mother."

He frowned. "She's been meddling in things she shouldn't have again, and it's coming back to haunt us. Nathan could have easily killed you today, and I'd never have forgiven myself if--" He cut off very suddenly. "I'm sorry. It was bad enough. There's no point in what ifs."

"It's fine. I'm fine. Nothing happened." A ghost of a smile curled across her lips. "I hope you'll forgive me if I vote for the other guy next time, though."

Peter looked startled for a moment, then burst out laughing. "You are the last thing I expect sometimes, you know that?"

Emma couldn't find a way to respond that, so she settled for smiling quietly. Then she said, "I don't think your family is very good for you."

"What do you mean?"

"You're... when you're around them, you look so unhappy. You've got a weight on your shoulders."

He stared at her. "You've only known me for three weeks. How could you see that?"

She shrugged. "I'm good at reading faces- I have to be. From the minute we walked into this house I could see that you were sadder every second." She put a hand on his shoulder. "And I understand what it's like to have friction with your relatives. After Christopher drowned, my sister didn't speak to me for two years. I don't think she wanted to blame me, but she couldn't help what she was feeling. Sometimes it takes awhile to mend the rift. Give yourself time to let go of whatever it is they did to you. It's like a broken bone. Don't force it; it'll heal on it's own with enough time and care."

Peter's eyes were gentle as he listened to her, and Emma realized that she'd revealed more of herself than she had intended to. Somehow this kept happening around Peter. First telling her about Christopher at all, now this... If it kept up, Peter would know her better than anyone else. He certainly seemed to instinctively _understand_ her better even than her own mother.

"I can't argue with that," he said, smiling slightly. A comfortable silence fell between them, and they returned to watching as twilight deepened into darkness across the city.

After a few minutes, Emma said absently, "I always loved the city at nighttime." She glanced at Peter to see his reply.

A conspiratorial smile was growing across his face. "It's a sight to see from above, as well," he said. "You know, right now I can fly..." He let the sentence hang, and Emma realized what he was implying.

"Could we really?" she asked. She was shy to ask it, but at the same time, the prospect made her giddy.

Peter's smile widened into a full-blown megawatt smile she had only seen on a few occasions. "Absolutely," he said.

Very gently, he lifted her into his arms. And before she even realized it was happening, he had lifted off the balcony and they were soaring away into the star-studded sky. Emma's breath caught in her throat as they lofted above the roofs of the grand houses surrounding them. He angled to the west and south, heading towards downtown, and they streaked through a maze of skyscrapers, lofting ever higher into the sky until the city was only a sprawling patch of miniature buildings beneath them.

"How high are we?" she asked.

"I have no idea," Peter replied.

Emma glanced around them. "Shouldn't it be cold up this high?"

"That's part of the power," he explained. "I don't feel the temperature or the friction or anything. I guess it extends to you, as well."

She smiled up at him. "Wow," she said softly.

"I know. This was the first ability I ever actively used, and it's one of my favorites. Not too useful, when you're a paramedic, but still--"

"You wouldn't want to give it up," she said, once again finishing his sentiment.

He nodded. "Yeah." They were quiet for a few moments, hovering above the lighted city beneath them and drifting slightly with the wind. Then Peter said, "Emma, I-- Thank you for coming today. You're probably one of the best friends I've ever had."

"You've only known me for three weeks."

Peter laughed, and she felt the rumble in his chest. "I didn't say it wasn't really sad. It's just true. Not many people would have even come today, let alone stayed after Nathan's... issue. I trust you, too- and lately I'm starting to realize that I don't trust a whole lot of people anymore."

"I'm honored," she said, trying to make a joke of it. Their conversations had always been emotionally charged, but this was approaching a level of intense that she wasn't very comfortable with; her normal response to being uncomfortable was to run away. But here, so far up, there was nowhere to run.

Almost unconsciously, he brushed away a lock of hair the wind had blown into her face. "No, I'm serious," he said. "You're special; I'd think you were special even if you didn't have any powers at all." Emma couldn't respond: she was suddenly close to tears as the events of the day, combined with Peter's unanticipated tenderness, were catching up to her. "I should take you back now," he said quietly, noticing the look on her face.

* * *

The ending is a tad abrupt, but aren't the endings on Heroes always? Anyway, I'm pretty sure this isn't going to happen, but we can always wish, can't we?


End file.
